( Again, Warning; Mentions of self harm.
If you need help, I'm here. )

Anxiety's P.O.V

I don't want to talk to anyone.
I don't want to feel things.
I don't want to do anything.
I don't want to live anymore..

I never plan to leave my room, it's my only safe place.
I haven't eaten for a long time. Me and Prince don't speak to each other and we probably never will, I haven't seen Jealousy and Procrastination for a while. At least Depression understands what I'm going through. You know, he's always been there for me, he gets me. Unlike some people.

The room is empty apart from me, like always. It's funny, when you're constantly on edge, your hearing works a lot better, cause I can hear footsteps, talking, laughing, everything outside my door. Fun..

I get up from my sitting position, going over to my drawers. Opening the bottom one, I take out the shiny razor inside. Well, it's not completely shiny, since it has a few blood specks here and there, but it's close enough. I roll up my sleeves gently, looking down at the many scars that had been placed there. Two weeks can make you do a lot of things..

I slowly glide the razor over the skin, flinching in pain when it went over the other fresh ones. I dig it down into it, searching for something–a life, I guess. One scar for liking that stupid prince, another for believing it could work and people would support us, another for thinking I could be anything more than an idiot, and lastly, one for just being and looking stupid.

It's what I deserve.

The pain..I can't feel it. The thoughts and doubts and regrets take me away from the stinging. And most of all, just the thought that I could be dead if I keep doing this, it makes adrenaline run through me, urging me to cut harder and faster.

I glance back at my arms after spacing out for a few seconds. Blood. That's all that fills my vision. Blood pouring from my arms onto the floor, over me, over my sheets, everywhere. I couldn't help but smile. You see, I've always struggled with sadness, regret, ....anxiety, but I'd bottled those feelings up thinking that no one could help. That no one would help. I'm just 'Letting my feelings out!', like Princey always used to do, and tell me too.

Isn't this what he meant?

After clearing everything up, and carefully putting the razor away under some clothes ( so no one could find it ), I roll my sleeves back down. I put my hoodie over my head, laying down on the bed. It's been a long day..
Maybe tomorrow will be better..!
Hah, who am I kidding? I'm only going to be a moron and repeat the things I'd tried to avoid all my life.

Isn't being the embodiment of anxiety fun.

Sad chapter.
;-;
Please don't hate me..

But, hey! 3k views WOOOO, thank you so much, everyone gets a cookie 🍪🍪🍪🍪
Cookies should cheer you up.

That's all,
Farewell my friends